"I don't understand the subject," Mountjoy replied. "May I ask why you

take me into your confidence?"

"Because I look upon you as my best friend."

"You are very good. But surely, Mr. Vimpany, you have older friends in

your circle of acquaintance than I am."

"Not one," the doctor answered promptly, "whom I trust as I trust you.

Let me give you a proof of it."

"Is the proof in any way connected with money?" Hugh inquired.

"I call that hard on me," Mr. Vimpany protested. "No unfriendly

interruptions, Mountjoy! I offer a proof of kindly feeling. Do you mean

to hurt me?"

"Certainly not. Go on."

"Thank you; a little encouragement goes a long way with me. I have

found a bookseller, who will publish my contemplated work, on

commission. Not a soul has yet seen the estimate of expenses. I propose

to show it to You."

"Quite needless, Mr. Vimpany."

"Why quite needless?"

"Because I decline lending you the money."

"No, no, Mountjoy! You can't really mean that?"

"I do mean it."

"No!"

"Yes!"

The doctor's face showed a sudden change of expression---a sinister and

threatening change. "Don't drive me into a corner," he said. "Think of

it again."

Hugh's capacity for controlling himself gave way at last.

"Do you presume to threaten me?" he said. "Understand, if you please,

that my mind is made up, and that nothing you can say or do will alter

it."

With that declaration he rose from his chair, and waited for Mr.

Vimpany's departure.

The doctor put on his hat. His eyes rested on Hugh, with a look of

diabolical malice: "The time is not far off, Mr. Mountjoy, when you may

be sorry you refused me." He said those words deliberately--and took

his leave.

Released from the man's presence, Hugh found himself strangely

associating the interests of Iris with the language--otherwise beneath

notice--which Mr. Vimpany had used on leaving the room.

In desperate straits for want of money, how would the audacious

bankrupt next attempt to fill his empty purse? If he had, by any

chance, renewed his relations with his Irish friend--and such an event

was at least possible--his next experiment in the art of raising a loan

might take him to Paris. Lord Harry had already ventured on a

speculation which called for an immediate outlay of money, and which

was only expected to put a profit into his pocket at some future

period. In the meanwhile, his resources in money had their limits; and

his current expenses would make imperative demands on an ill-filled

purse. If the temptation to fail in his resolution to respect his

wife's fortune was already trying his fortitude, what better excuse

could be offered for yielding than the necessities of an old friend in

a state of pecuniary distress?




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